The Mysterious Girl at Apt 221b
by paprika-chan
Summary: The Inspector brings a young girl to Sherlock and John's flat. Who is she? and why does she bare such a striking resemblance to Sherlock? i do not own Sherlock, the show or the person. no matter how badly i want to... T-T
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock's daughter

Chapter one

"Where are you taking me?" A young girl asked, as she climbed into the back of a London police car. The driver- whom everyone called Inspector Lestrade- glanced at her in the rearview mirror.

"I'm taking you to your father." His answer perplexed the child. She had never had a father; she had assumed such a man did not exist. It has always just been her and her mum. No one else. She supposed it wasn't impossible though. Her mum had never spoken about him to her, but adults had a habit of hiding things from children. It was rather annoying actually. But now that her mum was dead, it was finally time for her to meet the big secret. The shameful past. Her father.

"Is it far?" Another question.

"Not terribly." Another answer. The rest of the car ride was silent. Save for the occasional sniffle from the child with the murdered mum.

When they got to their destination, the inspector opened the door for her and extended his hand to assist her out of the car. She didn't take it. Instead she hopped from her seat onto the sidewalk, adjusting her bag that ran across her chest with a single strap. Lestrade grabbed her suitcase from the trunk and led her to the door marked with the number "221." An older woman answered the door. She seemed very motherly, with her flowery blouse, short dirty-blonde hair, and wrinkles that could olny have gotten there from decades of smiling.

"Oh, Inspector Lestrade. Another case for Sherlock, I presume? " She opened the door a bit more to let him through, not even aware of the small child that followed him so closely behind or the purple suitcase he gripped in his hand.

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson," he said on his way in, "but I'm afraid it's not a case this time. Actually I've come here to drop someone off." He waved his arm to indicate the girl's presence. Mrs. Hudson's eyes widened in surprise.

"Well hello there, and who might you be? Surely, a girl as darling as you has no business in a place like this." The girl's blue eyes flickered up to Mrs. Hudson, then back to the floor.

"My name is Anastasia." Her already small voice practically disappeared in the entryway as the words came out of her mouth.

"Well, Anastasia, Inspector, let me show you up to Sherlock. He's been bored out of his mind without a puzzle to solve. I'm sure he'll be happy to you. Although, I should warn you Anastasia," the woman looked over her shoulder, "he can be quite a handful." She opened the door to the flat to let them in, and then she vanished back down the stairs to continue what she was doing before they had arrived.

Two men were inside. One towered over the other, tall and slender. The shorter of the two had the same color hair as Mrs. Hudson did, and he had a very severe face. Anastasia pegged him as the cranky type. Probably drank multiple cups of coffee every morning. The other one had thick dark curls that contrasted nicely with his pale skin and crystal blue eyes. She looked just like him.

The tall one's eyes immediately locked on Anastasia. Observing, calculating, deducing. "Who is she?" He still stared at her, but spoke to the man she came with.

Inspector Lestrade smirked just a tad. "You mean you haven't figured it out? You haven't _deduced _it? Why Sherlock, I'm surprised at you. This is Anastasia. She's your daughter."

The tall one just stared. The blonde one dropped his mug.


	2. Chapter 2

The Mysterious Girl in Apt. 221b

Chapter Two

"I don't have a daughter," his voice was cold.

Anastasia spoke for the first time since she entered the room. "That's perfect, considering I don't have a dad." The adults ignored her. Typical. Sherlock finally took his gaze off her and snapped his head to the detective inspector.

"That will be all, Lestrade?" He didn't ask any other questions. The inspector was just going to leave her here and everyone but she was ok with it. Why? No one asked her where she wanted to go. Not that she had a choice, but it would've been nice at least.

"Well no, there's papers to be signed, discussions to be had, evaluations to be done…"

"You don't have time for that, or you'll be late for your meeting." Back to staring at the kid.

"How did you- oh never mind that…Sherlock, are you even fit to take in a child?"

"Inspector, if you had any other choice she would not be here."

"Right then, well, I'll be later. And Sherlock,"

"Hm."

"Try not to frighten her." And with that he was gone, leaving the mysterious girl at apartment 221b.

Anastasia bent down, picked up the fallen mug, and handed it the blonde man who had finally recovered from shock.

"Oh uh, thanks…Anastasia… um, I'm sorry, I just really can't get over that. Are you REALLY Sherlock's daughter? It's just…well…DAUGHTER? Why didn't you tell me you had a daughter?!" He stared at Sherlock with a look of complete and utter confusion. On any other day, Anastasia would have found it highly amusing.

Sherlock sighed. "As I have already said before, _john_, I do not have a daughter. Unless you are implying that I somehow had sex with a woman and impregnated her without my knowledge?" Sherlock looked at him like he was an idiot. Although to him, everyone was an idiot.

"Well, she does look EXTRODINARILY similar to you, and the inspector seems convinced that she's yours. And the only way he would have known is if you were listed as her father on an official document. So tell me, if she's not yours, then whose is she?"

Sherlock looked at the child again, absorbing every bit of information he could from every detail surrounding her.

**Red eyes, wet cheeks.**

Cried recently.

**New clothes, new bags, no toys.**

Belonging destroyed. Most likely fire.

**Detective Inspector Lestrade is involved.**

There was a murder.

**No guardian.**

Dead mother, no father, no close relatives.

Conclusion: Mother was murdered in a fire.

John watched as Sherlock's eyes squinted, his brows furrowed, his mouth opened just a bit, and his eyes moved rapidly, seeing everything. This was his calculating look. He looked back at Anastasia, surprised to see the very same look take over her face.

**Messy apartment, neat personal appearance.**

Out a lot.

**Neatly empty box of nicotine patches**

Recovering smoker.

**Evidence bag and a microscope**

Detective.

**No womanly touch to flat.**

Both men single.

**Pile of take-away receipts, two dated as today**

No food in apartment.

Conclusion: They should most definitely NOT be in charge of a child.

Sherlock was taken aback when he finally noticed that eerily familiar calculating stare looking up at him. "What do you notice?" If she could do it, if she was burdened with the same intelligence that he was, then maybe, just maybe, it was possible she was his flesh and blood.

She tried to hold back. Whenever she did this at school the kids made fun of her. They called her names, they poked her with sticks, and they mocked her everywhere she went. Her teachers flinched whenever she looked at them, and even her mum was scared of her sometimes. Maybe this time, if she could hold back, no one would be scared. No one would tell her to go away. But she couldn't help it. She had to show off. She had to advertise to everyone she met just how clever she was. She didn't know it yet, but it was in her blood.

"Your flat is messy, but you yourself are very clean. You must not be home much. And when you are, you go crazy. That's why there are so many torn papers. There's a box of nicotine patches that's nearly empty, so you probably have a very bad smoking habit. I know it's you because his teeth are whiter. You are both single, there's no hint of a woman having ever been here, except for the old woman that answered the door. There's a pile of takeaway receipts, two of which are dated for today, which means that you never have any groceries in the house. The evidence bag and the microscope must mean that you are a detective of some sort. Though, judging by the way Mr. Lestrade acted towards you, you're not an employee. Probably a consultant. Did I miss anything?"

Watson's jaw basically fell on the floor before she had even finished speaking. Sherlock was even more astonished.

"Well, that was…amazing…incredible really…" John practically repeated the same words from when he had first met Sherlock. And Anastasia practically repeated the same words Sherlock had said from when he first met John.

"That not what people normally say." She looked at the floor, automatically studying it though she tried not to.

Sherlock knew where this was going. "What do people normally say?"

"Piss off," she answered. He smirked. She was undeniably his.


	3. Chapter 3

The Mysterious Girl at Apartment 221b

Chapter Three

A few hours passed and Lestrade came back with a social worker and piles of papers to be signed. Sherlock signed them without hesitation. Didn't it bother him that he was taking in a child he had only met a few hours ago? How could he just take custody of her without even knowing for sure that she was his? Anastasia searched his face for answers, but they weren't there.

Anastasia wished her house hadn't burned down, and that it didn't take her mom with it. She wished that, instead of standing here is this strange place, she were on her way back home from school, like she usually was around this time. She wished that she could eat the cookies her mom would have made earlier, like she always did on Friday. But that was the problem. She always wanted what she could never have.

She would never walk home from that school again. She would never eat her mum's homemade cookies again. She would never hug her mum again. Her mum would never say 'I love you' again… It was all taken from, yanked from her arms, her weeping heart pulled along with it. And no one knew who did it.

The social worker walked up to Anastasia, and bent down so they could see eye to eye. Her voice got higher than usual, as if she were talking to a kitten or a baby. Her mouth stretched across her face in the worst smile Anastasia had seen yet. It irritated Anastasia when people talked down to her. She wasn't five anymore. She was SEVEN for God's sake! She was practically an adult!

"Are you listening, Anastasia? Sweetie? I said, welcome to your new home! The adoption is official! And don't worry; I'm sure lots of kids have two daddies!" Anastasia could faintly hear John mutter something about it "not being like that," but she wasn't really listening. Instead she had reverted back to what she usually did when she came across annoying people. She studied the Social worker, or Mrs. Nancy, whatever Lestrade had called her. Her eyes flashed across Mrs. Nancy, picking up every stray detail, until they found a weakness. Something she could use against her.

After about ten seconds of staring at Mrs. Nancy, unresponsive, Anastasia replied to what she had said. "I hope your husband knows your cheating on him. Actually, you might as well tell your daughter too. I'm sure she would love to know who's breaking apart her family."

Mrs. Nancy opened her mouth, closed it, opened it, and gaped at Anastasia. How could this…this tiny, short mass of brown curls know that she was cheating on her husband? How did she know she had a daughter? In her mind, she played back everything she had said since she came in. She was sure she had never mentioned Amy to anyone in this room. So how did Anastasia know?

Despite her grimace inside, Mrs. Nancy put on her best smile and said "I don't see how you could possibly know that…"

Anastasia huffed with impatience, rolled her eyes, and opened her mouth to point out every single detail that supported her conclusion to everyone in the room. "Great. Where to start? First of all…" Before she could say anything else, a hand clamped over her mouth. It was John. He took over the rest of the conversation from her.

"Thank you very much for your time Mrs. Nancy, I'm sure Anastasia will be very happy here," Lestrade muttered something under his breath, "and we will be looking forward to seeing you next month for the Check-in." This time, there was muttering from both Sherlock and Anastasia.

Mrs. Nancy gathered all her things, pile of papers included and tip-toed out the door in her bright red $200 shoes.

Mrs. Hudson came up a bit later and offered Anastasia some food, which she took gladly. The two went downstairs, leaving John and Sherlock alone in the Apartment again.

John turned to Sherlock, voicing a question that had been on his mind since they met Anastasia. "Do you really think she's your daughter?"

Sherlock actually hesitated before answering. It was the first time John had seen him hesitate, but when he answered, he sounded sure of himself. "Yes, I do. I don't know how it's possible, but I do believe she is my daughter."

**A/N- I'm so sorry this chapter is so short and has very little plot. I meant to make it a lot longer but, honestly I have been overwhelmed with school lately and haven't had much time to write. Please review and let me know if you like this story, or if you have any ideas on what you want to happen. Your comments truly help inspire me and are what is going to keep this fic alive. I love all of you 3Thanks!**


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